


The Art of Pretending

by sunflowerstate



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship/Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26807542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerstate/pseuds/sunflowerstate
Summary: Mia Harper has officially gone crazy. At least, that's the only way she can make sense out of the events that have transpired around her. After the untimely death of her brother Paul and having no other relatives that she can live with the age of seventeen, she wakes up in Diagon Alley outside of Fred and George's shop with no explanation of how she ended up there, and the ability to use magic.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

"Go away!" I shout. 

"Mia," Paul, my brother, calls after me. "Can you act mature just this once?" 

"How can you say that?" I glower, knowing full and well that he can't see me through the door of my bedroom. Some of the peeling white paint has fallen to the floor, a testament to how hard I had slammed the door in Paul's face. "How could you do that to me?" 

"I don't know what else to do," he admits, his voice muffled. "You know it's hard for me to get a job right now. And maybe it would be easier to--" 

"Maybe you shouldn't abandon the only family you have left," I interrupt. "Just leave me alone." 

I can hear him standing at my door for a few seconds longer, and then he sighs and walks away. Paul is only twenty-two, and had to start taking care of me when our mom died four years ago. I was only twelve, and unused to being around my older brother that didn't seem to want anything to do with us. 

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I sit down on my bed and open up my favorite book -- Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. There's something about Harry Potter that's comforting to me. I read it everyday when Mom got sick -- it felt like a way to escape. 

Paul doesn't try to talk to me again.

The next week, I greet Paul with stony silence when I get home from school. Today, it's raining heavily and I can barely see the buildings of the city out of our dingy apartment window. 

"I'm going to sign up today," Paul says. "I've made my decision." 

I shake my head. "It sounds like you've already made up your mind." 

"Mia," he says. "Please don't be angry."

"You're leaving just like Dad did!" The words burst from my mouth before I can stop them. All of the hurt I've felt since Mom died, the feeling of being unwanted by my family, comes out in that moment. "Just admit it, you never wanted me, just like he didn't!" 

"That's not fair," Paul answers, his mouth pressed in a firm line. "This is the only way I could think of to help you." 

"Liar!" I shout. 

"You can go to college with the money!" His voice is equally as loud -- we've always had hot tempers. "This is going to help you!" 

"I can do it myself!" I wrench open the door, and fling myself into the pouring rain. 

"Mia, where are you going?!" Paul shouts. 

I wrap my raincoat tighter around myself. It's freezing outside. Ignoring him, I begin to walk to the closest subway station. 

I feel his hand tighten around my arm. "Can you please just talk to me?" 

"I don't want you to leave!" I say, turning to face him. We're standing on the edge of the street and I can vaguely make out the shape of taxis and other cars speeding by us. "Can you not wait two more years?" 

"I can't afford it." He looks away from me then. 

"Fine," I agree, feeling reckless. "I know you're just trying to get rid of me anyway." 

"That's not true, and you know it," Paul hisses. 

I step away from him, forgetting that I'm already so close to the edge of the road. I fall on my back, my head hitting the pavement. Putting a hand to my now-pounding head, I scream, seeing the yellow cab coming toward me. 

I'm yanked out of the way and tumble to the sidewalk. There's a thud, and then I hear the screams of others around me. 

"Paul," I say, dazed. There's a figure sprawling on the road. I look around, not seeing my brother anywhere. "Paul!" I shout, and start stumbling towards the small crowd that's gathered beside the taxi. 

And then I see him. 

I scream. 

.:.:.:.:.

Eight months later... 

"Have you started thinking about what college you'd like to attend?" The guidance counselor at my school asks. 

I sigh. "I'm not planning on going." 

"Mia," she peers at me over her glasses. "You have to consider..." 

I shake my head. The school had mandatory meetings with the counselors about what our "plans for the future" were at the beginning of our senior year. It wasn't like I was anything special. 

"Listen," I say, "I appreciate it, really. But my grades last year were trash, and I don't want to continue my education. I'd rather find a job and live out the rest of my life doing mediocre work until I die." 

"You don't mean that," the counselor says. "I can help you, if you want it."

"I'm good," I answer, picking up my backpack and slinging it over my shoulder. "Thanks, though." 

I make my way out of the building, heading toward the group home that took me in after Paul had died. I would have hated it, if I hadn't been completely numb. 

After the doctor had told me that they hadn't been able to save him, the guilt had consumed me, and then everything had gone blank. It was like everything inside of me had been used up. I had been sent to a completely new school where I knew no one, and instead of using my depleted energy to socialize or study, I had completely numbed out. 

The sun is already setting as I'm walking -- I had signed up for one of the later time slots to avoid going to the home early -- and I notice that a few of the streetlights have began to flicker. 

I stare up at them, more annoyed than anything. It wasn't like they were going to try and fix up this part of the city, but they could at least have lights that work. 

Everything seems to be getting darker than usual. Someone whistles at me from an alleyway, but I ignore them, quickening my pace. There's nothing I can't handle anymore, I tell myself, especially if it's a confused drunk. Still, it startles me when the streetlights begin to shut off, one by one. 

"What have we here?" A voice says, closer than I am expecting. 

I flinch. "Stay away from me." 

"Just a Muggle," another voice answers, sounding bored. "Don't draw any more attention than you must." 

"I'm just walking home," I say. Great, they were crazy. 

"Silence, before I shut you up for good." The man who's standing next to me says. I feel a hand on my arm, and I shrug away from it and start to run. 

There's laughter behind me. One of the men says something in a language I've never heard. I see a flash of light, and then I'm laying on my back, stunned. 

Another figure looms over me, saying something. My ears are ringing too loud for me to hear, but there's something familiar about the way the man stands, about how he looks. 

"Paul?" I whisper. 

And then, everything goes black. 

.:.:.:.

"You're telling me that she was just laying out here?" A voice whispers.

Someone curses. "Dad said things were getting more dangerous." 

My eyes flutter open and immediately take in my surroundings. I'm laying on a wooden floor with someone's jacket haphazardly folded under my head. It's a store of some sort, with multicolored products lining the walls. 

"Oi, she's waking up." There's a boy kneeling next to me with red hair. "Are you okay?" He asks me. 

"I don't know," I answer, honestly. "How did I get here?" 

"I found you outside," the boy says. "You were screaming bloody murder." 

"Oh," I consider this for a second. What had I been doing? "I was walking home from school," I say, "I thought I saw my brother." 

"You sound raving mad," another boy walks over to where I'm still laying on the floor. I realize that he looks exactly the same as the one kneeling by my head. He grins at me. 

"I know," I agree. I sit up, trying to ignore my pounding head. 

"What's your name?" The one sitting next to me asks. 

"Mia Harper," I answer. Then, I wonder if I should be telling my name to a couple of strange boys. "And you are?" 

"I'm Fred Weasley," the one closest to me says, giving me a grin identical to the other boy, "and this is my brother, George." 

That's when I pass out for the second time that night.


	2. Chapter 1

"I'm sorry," I say. "I don't usually faint." 

Fred hands me a bottle of something, which I realize is Butterbeer. "Here," he says, "this will help." 

I take a sip hesitantly, and I feel my body warm up instantly. In fact, I feel better than I have in months. "Thanks," I reply. 

"So," Fred says. "Do you remember anything?" 

It's obvious that I've gone crazy. There's no other explanation that makes sense. I didn't really wake up in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, my mind must have finally snapped from all of the stress -- or, honestly, maybe it had just gotten bored of being unused for so long. 

I realize that they're staring at me expectantly. 

I shake my head. "No," I lie, "besides being followed... and waking up here." 

"When I came outside you were screaming bloody murder," Fred says. 

"Like I said," I reply, "I was being followed on my way home, and I saw a bright light. I'm not even from here." That was an understatement. 

George lets out a sigh. "Probably a memory charm, then. Do you remember where you live?" 

Nowhere close to here, I think. "I'm not sure," I reply. "It... doesn't look familiar though." 

"You're in our store -- Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Fred says proudly. "Just opened a few months ago." 

So that must mean that I'm somewhere before Half-Blood Prince starts. Not that it matters, being a figment of my imagination and all. 

"It's great," I reply, earnestly, figuring if I'm going crazy, at least it's somewhere I'd actually want to be. I take a moment to look around me again -- I can see the glass container where different-colored pygmy puffs are bouncing around, and a colorful display of heart-shaped bottles that I assume are love potions. "I wish I could visit under different circumstances." 

"You can always come back," George answers. "But for now, what should we do?" This question is more directed towards Fred. 

"You can stay here until morning," Fred says to me. "We live in the flat above the store." 

"Maybe Dad can help her," George suggests. "If her memory was messed with." 

"What I want to know," Fred says, "is how you ended up around those sorts of wizards. You seem like you'd get along with the girls we went to school with." 

They continue to talk, once we had made our way up to the small flat where they lived. Exhausted now, I mostly listen, only interjecting once or twice before they finally decide to send an owl to their parents. 

"The Order might want to hear about this," Fred says finally, under his breath. 

I find myself on the threadbare couch that's in the living area of their apartment. Despite the unfamiliar setting, it feels cozy. I find myself recognizing the smell of gunpowder lingering in the air as I drift off to sleep. 

-:- 

The next morning, they take me to the Burrow. It's exactly as I had imagined when I read the books -- a tall house that's existence is only possible because it's held together by magic. I gawk at the chickens pecking around in the front yard, and the sight of a few gnomes walking around the garden. 

"It's not much," Fred says, "but there's more room." 

"I love it," I answer. 

He gives me a grin, and then opens the door. "Mum, here's the Death Eater that turned up at our place." 

I scowl at him, and he laughs. 

"Don't say that!" Mrs. Weasley is waiting by the door to greet us, and she swats Fred with a copy of the Daily Prophet that she's holding. 

George laughs too, but stops when Mrs. Weasley shoots him a look. 

"Hello, dear." She smiles at me. "You must be Mia." 

I nod, trying not to gape at my surroundings. It's even cozier than the twins' apartment -- almost like visiting a childhood memory, even though I'd never set foot in the Burrow in my life. On the chair by the window, a pair of knitting needles works on what looks like a grey scarf. 

Mrs. Weasley waves us in, and I'm suddenly sitting at the breakfast table with a plate of toast and bacon in front of me. 

"You're supposed to eat it," George says to me, with a mock-serious face. 

I roll my eyes at him. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," I say. 

The twins are piling food on their plates. I take a bite of toast, realizing that I'm ravenous. 

"Now," she says, still cooking at the stove. I wonder if any of the other Weasley's are at home, too. "Fred and George said that you showed up at their house last night?" 

"Yes," I nod. "I... I still don't remember anything. I'm sorry." 

At Mrs. Weasley's prompting, I do my best to tell them everything that had happened -- besides the fact that I had gone mad and had ended up in a fictional world. 

"I was walking home," I tell them, "and I ran into two men who started to follow me, and I saw a flash of light and I guess it had been some sort of memory charm." I'm rambling. 

"We'll talk to Arthur when he gets home," Mrs. Weasley says soothingly, but I see her shoot Fred and George a worried look. 

They leave soon after breakfast, but not before Fred promises, "We'll be back."

I help Mrs. Weasley with the dishes, not wanting to be in the way. 

"Sometimes I worry about them," she tells me, using her wand to neatly stack the dry plates in the pantry. "With all that's going on, I feel like they're going to get themselves into trouble." 

"What's going on?" I ask, placing the leftover food on the counter, where I suppose it's waiting for whoever else is staying here. 

"Well there's the matter that You-Know-Who is back of course," she says with a shudder as she moves about the kitchen, "There's so many Dark Wizards about..." She informs me about various happenings that have given the Order (although she doesn't mention the name, I just assume) and her husband trouble. All things that I remembered mostly from the books, just in more detail.

I follow Mrs. Weasley outside, where I help her feed the chickens, and pull weeds in the garden. She insists that I go sit back outside, but I feel restless and want something to do. 

I meet Ron and Ginny when they walk into the kitchen a few hours later. I'm trying to read the Daily Prophet, but what I'm mostly doing is staring at the moving pictures on the newspaper. 

"Who's the guest?" Ginny says, and places a few pieces of bacon onto a plate. 

"This is Mia," Mrs. Weasley answers. "She's going to stay with us for the day." 

I find myself explaining, again, how I ended up here. Ron and Ginny look at me, wide-eyed. 

"Blimey," Ron says, his mouth still full of toast, "D'you think it has somefink to do wif You-Know-Who?"

"Oh, don't be silly," Mrs. Weasley snaps. "It was probably just a memory charm. She'll come around once we get someone from the Or- someone to look at it."

I'm certain that she was about to say the Order of the Phoenix. This is getting more and more interesting.

"So do you have a wand?" Ron wants to know.

"Er, no." I admit. "I don't have one now and... can't remember using one." I hadn't thought about trying. Would anything happen? 

I don't miss the looks that Ginny and Ron give each other.

I spend the rest of the day at the Weasley's, either helping with the chores (despite Mrs. Weasley's protests) or talking to Ginny. She takes me up to her room and we look through Quidditch magazines, making polite conversation. 

Fred and George come later that evening. 

"Remember anything yet?" George says. At least, I'm pretty sure it's George. It's hard to tell them apart when they're wearing the store uniforms. 

"Nothing," I lie. 

"Do you remember touching anything suspicious?" Mr. Weasley asks. He seems intrigued after Fred and George told him about my situation. "Or, do you remember buying anything from one of those street vendors?" 

I shake my head. "No, all I remember is trying to walk home last night." Nevermind the fact that I'm still in high school. The only good thing about my age in this world is that I'm already of age -- seventeen. Legally, I could live by myself if I wanted to. 

When we were finished with dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley insist that I stay in Fred and George's old room until my memories come back or I can get situated somewhere else. 

Laying in bed that night, the last thing I see in my mind before I fall asleep is Paul. I could have sworn that I saw him the other night. Did that mean that he was here with me? 

Don't be stupid, I think. Afterall, who said this was real anyway?


	3. Chapter 2

A month later, I'm living temporarily with the Weasley's at the Burrow. When it had been decided by a few members of the Order (not that I was supposed to know what that was) that I wasn't actually one of Voldemort's followers in disguise, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had insisted that I stay with them until I could remember where I was supposed to be. 

I found myself talking to Tonks that night, who had stopped by as a favor to Mr. Weasley. She looked just as I had imagined when I had read the books -- a young woman with shocking short pink hair, who tripped over the doormat as soon as she walked in. 

"It's not safe out there," Tonks had agreed, after confirming that I was, in fact, not evil. "We've been getting a lot of reports of these kinds of things happening. Usually with Muggles, though." 

"Maybe I am a Muggle," I muttered. 

"Nonsense," Mrs. Weasley had said kindly. "Not that it would be a bad thing, but you wouldn't have been able to see Diagon Alley if you were a Muggle. Not alone, at the very least." 

"There's definitely magic there," Tonks agreed, and then she grinned at me. "Don't overexert yourself trying to find it, though." 

"She'll stay with us," Mrs. Weasley declared. "I insist," she said then, to me. "I would hate to send you off without a place to go." It had been well-established that I had no money. 

She had been so earnest that I couldn't say no, even if I had wanted to. 

It's mid-summer now, and since I haven't "recovered" my memories yet, Fred and George offered me a job at their shop. I spend my days helping restock and manage customers. 

It's better than a dream, working at the twins' store. While I like living at the Burrow, it's nice to get out and be able to explore some. I've realized that I'm at the beginning of where Half-Blood Prince had started, given what's going on around me, which means: 

1\. Sirius is already dead, and the Order doesn't have access to the Grimmauld Place house at the moment. 

2\. Voldemort is back. 

3\. Harry Potter and Hermione should get to the Burrow by the end of the summer. 

At night, I help Ginny with her chores. Besides Fred and George, she's the easiest to talk to, and I find myself liking her as a friend. 

"I'm dating this boy named Dean right now," she tells me one night, after I ask her if she's seeing anyone. "He's a year above me." 

I wish I could remember when she started dating Harry. Was it this book? 

"Is he the one that plays Quidditch?" I ask. 

She laughs. "God, no. I've watched him, he's a lousy flier." 

"I guess no one's better than you?" I tease, but I'm being a little serious. 

Ginny had taken me out to the field by her house to fly one day, against my protests. I had a terrible fear of heights -- I had managed to get a few feet in the air and then screamed and fell back into the grass. 

Ginny had laughed, after making sure I was okay, and I watched her fly after that. The brooms weren't good quality, but she made them look easy to ride. 

"You're not," she snorts. "Not if you don't practice, anyway." 

"Whatever," I mutter. "It's not like I need to learn." 

"What I don't understand," Ginny says, "is why you aren't planning to go to Hogwarts. You're only seventeen, you could be a seventh year. I could show you around too, maybe we could find someone who remembers you." 

"And embarrass myself like that?" I laugh. "I don't even have a wand. Nevermind the fact that I probably won't even be allowed in. I'm sure I didn't go there." 

She shrugs. "It just seems like something is holding you back. No one is stopping you from buying a new wand. I think Dumbledore might allow it, too. It doesn't hurt to ask." 

I have a hard enough time explaining why I can't use magic, that I make up an excuse to go to bed early. Ginny isn't fooled, but she let's me go. 

-:-

"Oi," Fred says, "what was that customer going on about?"

I look up from where I'm restocking a shelf of brightly-packaged skiving snackboxes. Sometimes I forget how much taller he is than me. 

"Oh, it was just someone trying to get me to buy some sort of amulet." I roll my eyes. "And then she was asking for a free sample of a love potion or something. It was hard to make out what she was saying." 

I had seen the witch harassing Verity -- the other full-time employee of Fred and George, and had come to her rescue. Years of working in retail before this had prepared me for the occasional difficult customer, but this woman had seemed a little off. 

"Nice job sending her out." Fred waves his wand, and the boxes of Puking Pastilles that I'm holding fly out of my arms and stack neatly on the shelf. 

"Hey," I say, "that's not fair!" 

"It's my store," he grins. 

"Our store," George corrects, walking by with a pygmy puff that somehow escaped its display. "Thanks for handling that batty woman, Mia." 

I spend the rest of my day stocking shelves and talking to customers. I almost feel normal now, working here. 

"C'mon," Fred says, at the end of the day, "I have a surprise for you." 

Intrigued, I follow him down the cobblestone road. The sun hasn't set yet, and I wonder why we're leaving so early. 

"What is it?" I ask, and then freeze when he stops us in front of a store that says "Ollivanders". 

"We're getting you a wand," Fred replies. "It's a gift from George and me." 

"I don't think that's a good idea." I still feel frozen in place. What if the wand didn't work? What if they find out that I'm just a Muggle? 

"I don't know what happened," Fred says, "but you have to start trying to use magic again sometime. It's not going anywhere. This might be the best way for you to start remembering what happened to you." 

That's not the problem, I think, but I can't say anything that makes sense without exposing myself. "I just don't feel ready," I say. 

"You're never going to if you don't try it," he answers. Damn. 

I sigh. "I'm not taking your money for this. Wands are expensive." 

"We insist," Fred grins. "Come on, you've been working hard." 

"And you've been paying me," I protest, but I led him lead me into the store anyway. I can protest all I want, but my curiosity is burning. 

I wish Fred wasn't here to see how unextraordinary I am though. 

Ollivander is more unsettling than I remember, with silvery eyes that seem to stare right through me. Still, he seems more than happy to pull out a few wands for me to try. 

"Fourteen inches, dragon heartstring core, alder... a bit whippy," he adds, as he hands me the first wand. 

I hold it in my hand, staring down at it. 

"Go on then, wave it around," Fred encourages, but he also looks like he's trying to hide a laugh. 

I shrug, and give it a flick. To my surprise, a few boxes of wands fly off of one of the tables in the store.

It's out of my hand in an instant, and as Ollivander is picking out another wand for me to try, I notice that Fred is openly laughing. 

"What!?" I demand. 

"The look on your face was priceless," he says. 

I roll my eyes and try the next wand -- holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather core, rigid. A loud bang comes out of it, making me flinch. I glare at Fred, who seems to have gotten it under control a bit more, but is still fighting laughter. 

Part of me is annoyed, but the other part of me can't believe that I've managed to make something happen with the wands. Maybe I wasn't a Muggle, at least not here. Maybe I could even learn magic if I wanted to. 

I try a few more wands, until Ollivander hands me one that he pulls from the back. "This wand is yew, twelve inches, unicorn tail core, swishy." 

When I touch the wand, it feels warm in my hand and a few red sparks burst out of it.

"Interesting," Ollivander says. 

"What is it?" I ask, still holding the wand. 

"Yew wands tend to have a... darker reputation than most," he explains, "but I suppose it depends on who owns the wand in question to decide how it will be used." 

I glance at Fred, who shrugs. "She'll take it," he says. 

When we're outside, Fred asks me, "You okay?" 

I shrug. "I'm not sure about my wand having a dark reputation, is all." 

"Don't worry about that," he answers. "Ollivander always says barmy things. You should have heard him when we went to get Bill's wand." 

"Thank you," I say. "Really, this is the best gift I could have gotten." 

"No problem at all. Maybe your restocking will get faster once you relearn some spells," Fred jokes. 

I whack him lightly with the box that my wand came in -- I'm too nervous to take it out right now, for fear that I'll accidentally set something on fire if I'm not careful. 

He just laughs again, and takes my hand. I feel myself feeling like I'm being pressed through a very tight tube, apparating never really feels right, and we're suddenly back at the Burrow. 

"I'll see you tomorrow," Fred tells me. "Don't burn down the house or anything while I'm away." 

"I won't," I mutter, and then I go inside. Maybe Ginny has a few textbooks lying around that I can use to practice.


	4. Chapter 3

"Wingardium Leviosa!" I perform the swish-and-flick motion that I had read about in the books so many times. The feather that Ginny had found for me in the front yard twitches feebly. 

"Don't get too frustrated," Ginny encourages. "See? It moved this time." 

I sigh. Learning magic was way harder than I thought it would be. Not that it made it seem much easier in the books. "I guess that's something." 

Ginny had been helping me out with beginner-level spells for the past few weeks. Together, we had scavenged for her old textbooks from her first year in Hogwarts -- almost all of them hand-me-downs -- to look for spells that I could practice. She had proven to be a good teacher -- really patient, especially when I wasn't. 

"Wingardium Leviosa!" I try again. The feather flies into the air and disappears behind Ginny's dresser. "Oops, sorry." 

"You almost had it!" Ginny places a copy of Which Broomstick in front of me. "Try this next." 

I say the incantation again, and the book flips over. "Did you see that?" I grin. 

"See what?" Fred is standing in the doorway, grinning. "Oi, I hope you're actually using that wand." 

"Oh shut up," I smile. "I practically made a feather disappear." 

"You'd better not practice inside the store," George says, standing next to Fred now. "We don't need any more mishaps, what with you dropping that package of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder yesterday." 

It was true that I had never been called graceful. "That was because you tripped me and you know it," I complain. 

"He was standing at the other end of the room." Fred laughs. 

"What do you two want anyway?" Ginny says. "You're only distracting her from our lesson." 

"Mum wants you to come downstairs," George replies. "Bill and Fleur are here and we're having dinner. Also Mia, you're going to have to move your things up to Ginny's room -- Fred and I are going to stay here tonight." 

I nod, racking my brains for some memory of what I remember from the sixth Harry Potter book. I think Hermione was going to be here in a week or two, and then Harry Potter himself. 

Fred and George help me move my few things to the room -- using a charm that makes them float by themselves and land neatly at my feet. 

"Now you're just showing off," I mutter, while we're walking down to the kitchen. 

Bill and Fleur are a little surprised to see me there with the rest of the family, but they don't question it after Mr. Weasley explains why I'm staying. 

"I bet you wish you remember where you're from after staying with this lot," Bill jokes. 

Fleur kisses me on both of my cheeks. "It's a pleasure," she says. 

I have a hard time not staring at both of them. For one thing, Bill is as cool as I had read in the books, with long hair and a single earring. Fleur is almost ethereal in her beauty, with long silvery blonde hair and perfect features. I feel dull in comparison. 

The Weasleys welcome them both, although I can see Mrs. Weasley looking a little uncomfortable at something that Fleur says about the house. I look at Fred -- he just grins and shrugs. 

-:-

I'm running down the street, my heart pounding. Just a few blocks away, I think. If I can just make it, I'll be safe. 

"Don't be shy," one of my pursuers calls after me. "We've been looking for you. You can't escape forever." 

I hear a whisper and there's a flash of light. Suddenly, I hit the sidewalk, unable to move. 

The man who was chasing me is walking now, laughing. I see the other one standing across the street. 

"No," I try to say, but I'm frozen in place. I'm trapped here. 

He's next to me now, smirking down at me. "Found you." 

I stare up at the man, trying to make sense of his face, when I suddenly recognize it. 

"Paul?" I whisper. 

"Not fast enough," he says. 

I scream. 

"Mia?" Ginny's shaking me. I find myself on the floor of her room, shuddering. "Mia, wake up. It was a nightmare." 

"W-what..." I stare up at her. Ginny looks pale and worried. "I-I'm sorry." My breath is still coming out in gasps, and I'm ashamed to realize that tears are streaming down my face. 

"Everything okay in here?" At the door, I see Fred and George, their wands out -- as if there's an intruder. 

"Just a nightmare," I say. 

"You were screaming bloody murder," Fred walks over to where I'm still laying on the floor. Outside, I can hear George muttering to the rest of the family members that I woke up, explaining what had happened. "Are you okay?" 

I nod, wiping my face with part of the sheets that are tangled around me. "Y-yeah," I answer. "I don't know what happened." 

"Who's Paul?" Ginny asks. 

I stare at her. "What?" 

"You were saying something about Paul," she explains. 

"Oh," I sigh. "That's my brother." 

Fred kneels down, examining me as if he's afraid I've gone mental. "Well that's good at least," he finally says. "You remember something." 

"Do you remember anything else?" Ginny asks. "Maybe we can try to find him and he can help us." 

I shake my head. "No," I say. "He's... dead." I have to wipe my eyes again then, thinking about Paul is too much -- the guilt wracks through me again, and I have to concentrate on where I am to keep myself from breaking down. 

"I'm sorry," Fred says. To my surprise, he uses his thumb to wipe away another tear that escapes. 

I look up at him, confused. "It's okay," I answer. "I mean, no, it's not okay, but... maybe that means my other memories are coming back. Is that even possible?" All lies, of course. I know who I am. 

George returns into the room, holding a cup of something that smells sweet. "Here," he says. "Mum made this for you, it'll help you go back to sleep. I promise I didn't put anything else in it this time." 

I laugh, thinking about how I can't trust anything that they give me anymore ever since Fred had handed me one of the Canary Creams a few weeks ago. "Thanks," I say. "Really, I'm okay now. Sorry for worrying everyone." 

"You're going to have some competition when Harry gets here," Fred jokes. "Honestly, I don't know why we're not used to it yet." 

"Oh shut up," Ginny smacks him in the arm. 

I take the cup from George and take a sip. It tastes like lemon and honey. I wonder if it has anything magical in it, or if it's just a cup of tea. Still, it's comforting. "I'll have to thank your mom in the morning," I say. 

When I finally fall back asleep, I don't dream at all.


End file.
